


paracosms (oh, the moments we'll get to share)

by Cxnfiscated



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, College Student Allura, F/F, Fluff, Flustered Romelle, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 10:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19105138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cxnfiscated/pseuds/Cxnfiscated
Summary: The door of the Paladins’ Corner, an ordinary, hole-in-the-wall coffee shop, opened and in walked a woman everything but ordinary. Romelle looked for a more suitable description, one actually worthy to describe her but she looked in vain. Her mind, usually overflowing with words, phrases fit for literary descriptions, scraps of prose carefully filed away for later, was empty. Every train of thought inside her mind came to a screeching halt as she forced herself to give an answer.“I… I don’t know.” An insufficient one at that.Lance snorted at her star-struck face.Now, I finally know the type of women you like.





	paracosms (oh, the moments we'll get to share)

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO EVERYONE!! i'M back and i got fluff! this was a prompt by my dearly beloved friend [Kristine!](https://twitter.com/kanonicity) (i'm sorry it took that long to finish, ily)  
> anyway, ENJOY!!!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: mild Alcoholism (alcohol is used to cope with bad news. if something like that could harm you. skip part III./IV.)

**paracosm (n.)**

**a detailed imaginary world**

 

**I.chocolate cake shaker**

 

People watching was one of her favourite things to do. Whether it was the hipster artist having his third coffee in the last hour, struggling with a sketch and cursing under his breath whenever he thought no one could hear him, or her coworker Lance wistfully staring at Keith whenever Keith had his back turned towards him. It made her shifts easier to bear and made time fly by faster.

 

Romelle had learned how to do it discreetly, too, how to let no one know that she had watched them for long enough that she could draw their face from memory alone, that she had constructed an entire fake backstory for them just to fill the time on a slow shift.

Her stories varied from outlandish to ordinary. From ties to the mafia, to struggling actors that were now trying make ends by living paycheck to paycheck, to the single mothers that just needed one night of restful sleep rather than a triple espresso shot. If the story existed, Romelle had probably found some suitable to carry it as its protagonist.

 

Lance leaned over to where Romelle was re-organising the change in the cash register and startled her with a whisper. “What’s her story?” Yes, she had infected him too. It was like a joke only the two of them were in. Lance would lean in and whisper that question whenever the shift was slow but the people coming in were interesting and Romelle would spin him a story using his suggestions, gentle nudges, and her imagination.

 

The door of the _Paladins’ Corner,_ an ordinary, hole-in-the-wall coffee shop, opened and in walked a woman everything _but_ ordinary. Romelle looked for a more suitable description, one actually worthy to describe her but she looked in vain. Her mind, usually overflowing with words, phrases fit for literary descriptions, scraps of prose carefully filed away for later, was empty. Every train of thought inside her mind came to a screeching halt as she forced herself to give an answer.

“I… I don’t know.” An insufficient one at that.

Lance snorted at her star-struck face. _Now, I finally know the type of women you like,_ he said and Romelle blushed furiously.

 

That, however, wasn’t quite it. Not because the girl that walked in wasn’t beautiful. She was. _Oh, God,_ she was. But she didn’t seem like there was a category fit to hold her. One label that would be enough encompass all she was.

“Hi! Uh…“ The girl’s eyes flicked up to the menu and she trailed off, eyes scanning it over and over. Romelle blanked for a solid 30 seconds, blinking like an idiot, stunned speechless at such beauty. It wasn‘t until Lance pointedly cleared his throat behind her that she regained control of herself and managed to grab a hold of her one work-related brain cell.

 

“Do you need help with your order?“ Romelle asked slowly not to startle her.

The girl set her wide and incredibly blue eyes to Romelle and shot her a relieved look. “Yes, that would be amazing actually.“ She smiled, dimples and crinkles around the eyes and all, and Romelle melted.

“So what kind of things do you like?”

“Sweet things.” Another smile, this time filled with mischief as if there were a hidden joke and Romelle was missing it. The girl began to fiddle with one of her white curls she had pulled up in a pair of buns at the top of her head.

“Sweet as in a bit of sugar or as in _‘I better get a cavity from this.’?”_ The smile broadened and Romelle felt heat rise in her cheeks.

“The second one.”

Okay, making coffee. This was familiar territory, she could do this. “Any allergies? Caffeine or decaf?”

The look in her eyes morphed into something vaguely challenging, her voice was lined with laughter that hadn’t quite happened yet. “No allergies. As for the rest: Surprise me.”

 

So Romelle did one of the things she did best, she made coffee. Her mind drifted off while measuring the coffee beans she had to grind. This was better. This was easy. No weirdly beautiful girls to throw her off, no mysterious smiles to catch her eye and distract her. Her movements were sure and free from hesitation. Ingredients were gathered, beans were ground, milk was steamed.

Romelle reached for a cup and turned back to the girl. She had been watching Romelle with rapt attention. “Could I get a name?”

“Allura with two ‘l’s.”

Romelle narrowed her eyes as she tried going for that fancy cursive she had spent her last shift practising. It went semi-well. “So, Allura…” She wasn’t quite sure about where she was going with this but she kept going anyway, “I’ve never seen you around here before.”

“So you know all of your customers?” Allura’s smile turned teasing and she angled her head.

“We’re about as full as it gets right now,” That wasn’t necessarily true, rush hours in the mornings and evenings were the worst, “And _I_ have a pretty good memory when it comes to faces.”  Now _that_ was true, there was a certain investment once she had created a storyline for someone. “At least those I think of as interesting.”

Allura’s smile sharpened. “And I’m one of those people? Interesting ones?”

 _You can’t imagine._ Romelle’s grip on her false bravado began to slip as heat crawled its way up her neck and settled onto her cheeks. “You could be. Tell me about yourself?” Great, her voice had been almost steady.

“Could we please not do this?” Romelle’s heart skipped a beat, “I hate small talk.” Allura shot her pained look and leaned in like she was telling her a secret, including exaggerated glances to the left and right and a whisper that was way too loud to count as such, “It’s the devil’s work.”

Romelle snorted, reached for the finished coffee pot and began to pour. “Fine. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think you’re exaggerating but sure.” She shrugged and pretended like she hadn’t just almost died off a heart attack, “What do you want to talk about?”

“What’s in that drink?” Allura thrust her chin in the direction of the cup where Romelle was pouring the steamed milk.

“Well, I obviously can’t tell you,” Romelle answered without looking up, “But you can try to guess the ingredients for yourself.”

 

She set the cup down in front of Allura. It was a mountain of chocolate-sprinkled whipped cream, bleeding into orange, bleeding into brown. Allura eyed it curiously, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Well here goes nothing I guess.”

Romelle stared at her, kneading her hands, every fibre of her body tense. She inhaled and didn’t exhale for a while. This had been a bad idea, a terrible idea. Just because she liked to experiment didn’t mean she had to take it out on poor unsuspecting customers.

“Oh, my God,” Allura’s eyes widened in surprise, “This is amazing.”

Romelle exhaled a year’s worth of air and smiled, perhaps a bit too shocked that Allura liked the drink. Allura smiled back and all ingredients were forgotten. “What’s in this?” Allura’s eyes now widened even further and Romelle found herself returning her smile almost instantly.

“Can’t tell you.” She made a show out of seeming deeply sorry.

Allura frowned and angled her head in thought. “Am I tasting lemon?”

“Yes and?”

Allura’s frown deepened. “Some type of nut. God knows which one.”

“Correct again! And?” Romelle’s smile widened. This exchange could have gone on for ages. Romelle would have had the time of her life standing there and making up coffee creations for a girl pretty enough to be a fallen star turned human. But sadly, that wasn’t going to happen.

 

It was only after Lance pointedly cleared his throat behind Romelle that the rest of her senses came back to her. “Oh, God I’m so sorry. I’d love to keep chatting with you but-” Romelle pointed at the row of people forming at the cash register and threw on an apologetic smile as if it were a t-shirt and she was late for work on a Monday morning.

Allura merely nodded, here wonder-filled eyes shifting between Romelle and her cup of iced coffee. But she eventually caught herself. “It’s fine, I’ll just come back some other time!”

“Good!” They were both almost yelling at each other, voices caught on the brink between _too loud to be acceptable_ and _stop yelling, for God’s sake,_ and the realisation brought a flood of red to Romelle’s face.

“That’s good,” she repeated, more quietly this time, blood still rushing inside her ears, “I’ll see you then.”

“See you then.” And with that Allura was gone and Romelle’s shift turned back to boring.

 

**II. dark roast coffee with almond milk**

 

The next time Allura came in, the sun had just started peaking over the horizon and the entire city was still asleep. Romelle looked up from where she was wiping the counters, her mind torn out of directionless musings by the sharp clang of the bells that hung over the door.

“Allura!” Romelle shot up straight and winced when her voice echoed through the otherwise empty café.

Allura froze, her foot on the threshold. “You remember me?” She shot Romelle a puzzled look. Romelle frowned at the question. Sure, Allura looked different than she had before, clad in a pair of worn grey sweatpants and a baby pink hoodie, her edges softened by sleep but she still had the same effect on Romelle as she had had the first time around.

Romelle walked over the counter and met her there. Everything how it was supposed to be, employee, customer and a cash register between them. “Told you I was good with faces, didn’t I?” Romelle would just pretend that her voice didn’t crack right in the middle of that sentence.

“You said interesting ones.” Allura leaned forward and grinned at her. Romelle traced the crooked curve with her eyes and something inside her chest shifted, moved where it wasn’t supposed to.

“Exactly. Also, how could I possibly forget my new coffee creation guinea pig?” Romelle joked but her laughter seamlessly bled into concern when Allura merely blinked for a few seconds before weakly joining in.

“Are you okay?” Romelle softened her voice and frowned.

Allura pushed her hair out of her face and it was then that Romelle saw how exhausted she actually looked. Now looking at her face didn’t immediately steal all air right out of her lungs she could see how Allura’s eyes were drooping and glossed over in exhaustion. How the bags beneath her eyes were almost invisible but still there and how each blink came slower than the last.

“Yeah, I’m-” A jaw-cracking yawn tore through her words.

“Fine?” Romelle raised an eyebrow to convey her disbelief.

“Maybe a bit sleep-deprived,” Allura conceded. Romelle raised her eyebrow higher. “Okay, maybe more than just ‘a bit’.” Allura huffed out a breath and rubbed the balls of her hands over her eyes. Romelle couldn’t help but marvel at her. No one should have the right to be this breathtaking when sleep-deprived. She smoothed her hands down the apron she had tied around her waist and tried to suppress her thoughts, redirect them to other things. It didn’t work.

“You could nap in our break for a bit if you want to? The couch in there is actually pretty decent.”

That was, in fact, true but still a bad idea. The break room was off-limits for all customers. And yet… Romelle’s eyes retraced the bags under Allura’s eyes, followed stray curls that had abandoned the bun she had messily thrown together and took in the way she seemed to drown in her hoodie. She had to help. As stupid as it was, as _foolish_ as it was, Romelle had to help.

“Thank you but I can’t.” Allura shot her an ironic grin as she lifted the laptop bag she had been holding ever since she came in, “Thesis work.” Romelle pulled a face. Allura’s grin deepened. “Exactly.”

“Let me at least make you a coffee,” Romelle blurted out before she realised how stupid that sounded. This was literally her job, making coffee. She had looked at this tired and so, _so_ beautiful girl and blurted out, _let me do my job for you, you know, the thing I get paid to do._ This was a disaster.

“I’ve slept for three hours I’d literally sell my left leg for caffeine right now.”

Romelle snorted to hide her breathlessness. “I’m not gonna take any limbs for you. Three to five bucks should be enough.”

“How gracious of you.”A smile spread on Allura’s lips, wide and genuine in a way the last one hadn’t been. Romelle felt like had just accomplished greatness.

“Any wishes?”

“Surprise me.” Another yawn and Romelle got to work.

 

Making the drink, went faster than ever. She blinked and the finished product was in her hand. “Here’s your drink.” She set it down in front of Allura and stared at her expectantly as she took the first sip.

“How do you do this?” Allura stared at her, face caught in between confusion and wonder. “I actually don’t like coffee all that much but this…” She frowned at the cup in her hand as though it would cave and tell her all its secrets.

“You don’t?”

“No, not really. I love matcha. But finding a matcha latte with almond milk is like hunting the Sasquatch, so I normally opt for tea instead.” Allura shrugged.

“Yeah, we don’t sell matcha, sorry.” Romelle shot her an apologetic look.

Allura brushed her off. “It’s fine! You keep making amazing coffee and I keep coming back.”

“Promise?” Romelle didn’t know what kind of boldness gripped her and put that challenging tone into her voice but she ran with it anyway.

Allura’s grin widened. “Promise.”

 

**III. / IV. green tea + iced caramel latte with an extra shot of espresso**

 

And Allura kept her promise. She came by on Mondays and Thursdays, not a single hair out of place. It was meticulously pulled out of her face, white curls tamed by both gel and tight braiding. She was the only person who could make button-ups look that effortless, the only person who turned heads by simply stepping into a room.

But those weren’t Romelle’s favourite days.

 _Those_ were Tuesdays and Fridays. Because whenever she came in on those days, her entire demeanour looked… less perfect. Not ugly, it would take rivers flowing uphill and the sun setting in the east for Allura to look anything less than beautiful. But on Tuesdays and Fridays, she was something else. Like a crooked painting, a magnificent sketch torn around the edges.  Her hair would always be down or carelessly thrown up into a bun. She usually came in with a stack of books and her laptop and would spend hours typing away at a small table tucked away in a corner.

The stories Romelle came up with on those days were something else, too. Something else entirely.

She imagined Allura hunched over in the library, reading glasses―a fact that had delighted her to an unreasonable degree when she’d found out about it─slightly askew, white curls pulled back so the darkened roots became visible. The textbook definition of an exhausted student. Quite boring actually, if you considered Romelle’s more outrageous stories.

That wasn’t what set them apart anyway. It was the fact that _Romelle_ was in them. All of them. She would be the one to disrupt her carefully set scene. She imagined herself waltzing in, grabbing Allura’s hand and forcing her to take a break. She would be the one to bring Allura coffee when it became clear that she needed one. She was the gentle nudge towards self-care, the _you’ve done enough_ Allura needed to hear and on particularly self-indulgent days, she even imagined them napping together, curled around one another, edges softened by sleep, legs woven together.

There was no story she, herself, didn’t appear in. No story in which she wasn’t loved by Allura and got to love her back in return.

 

It was stupid. More than stupid. Ludicrous even. But Romelle indulged herself anyway. Because she was weak. Because Allura was pretty, Romelle was weak and her heart and imagination conspired against her

 

But today was different. Because Allura wasn’t just ‘something else’. No, today she was _unhinged_.

She came, in soaked to the bone, two hours after they had had their last customer, her black wrap dress clinging to her figure like someone had painted it onto her, silver stiletto heels in one hand, bottle of wine in the other, rain and tears and makeup running down her cheeks.

“I know you’re closed but I was hoping for you’d make an exception for your favourite customer.” Allura walked over to the counter like she was a sailor who hadn’t gained her sea legs yet.

“Allura, what happened to you?” Romelle asked and hurried around the counter when she realised that Allura’s swaying wasn’t on purpose.

“I fell in love! Or rather I wanted to fall in love but _didn’t.”_ She smiled a caricature of a smile, wide, blinding and exaggerated until it turned ridiculous. Romelle gripped her forearms and was shocked by how cold they were. She slowly steered her towards one of the sofas that stood scattered around in the café space.

“Allura, how much did you drink?”

“I’m still sad, so not enough.”

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Allura was someone bigger than life, she exceeded any boundaries Romelle could imagine. Sadness didn’t get to tear her down like that, didn’t get to dim her shine like that.

“Oh, no that was definitely enough. Gimme that!” Romelle reached for the bottle and somehow, despite being drunk off her ass and swaying as if she were at sea, Allura managed to evade her. Quite embarrassing, frankly.

“ _Allura._ ” Romelle fell forward, hand resting on the headrest right next to Allura’s head. It was one of those moments where you were suddenly painfully aware of what all of your limbs were doing.

She was hunched over Allura, hand still reaching for the wine bottle, the other one carrying her weight. Their faces were mere inches apart and Romelle was pulled into blue depths. Her mouth turned dry as the breath inside her lungs got stuck on its way out. Allura herself froze mid-motion, her eyes wide, her body still. Romelle felt as though the world had inhaled when she had and now held its breath alongside her.

“Allura,” she whispered, her gaze unwavering, “hand me that bottle.” Romelle didn’t know where the firmness in her voice came from, because she sure as hell didn’t feel like it, but it was there and it was _working_.

Allura sighed, her breath a soft caress on Romelle’s face and handed her the bottle. “Fine, you win.”

“Thank you.” Romelle straightened and took a step back. She looked down at Allura, frowned at her wet clothes and her empty stare at some spot in the dark behind Romelle’s legs. She sighed. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

She turned on her heel and marched back into the employee space behind the counter. She somehow found that one blanket Lance had lost about two weeks ago and had been looking for ever since and boiled water for a cup of tea. While the small electric kettle gave off shrill noises Romelle was caught fidgeting, shifting her weight again and again.

She had imagined this time and time again, Allura at peril and Romell there to help her, a thousand scenarios had played inside her mind, thousand different strategies had been witnessed and refined and witnessed again and yet… nothing. Now that it actually counted, she had nothing that could help her.

The kettle clicked and Romelle kicked back into gear. She snatched up one of the mugs they stored in the room, chipped at one corner but still much sturdier than the fine china they normally used for their customers. She also grabbed the box in which they stored all of their tea bags, even grabbed the fancy ones that Adam guarded more than his own life and decided that she could deal with his potential wrath if that meant that Allura would be warm.

 

Romelle stepped out of the hallway that connected the working space to the staff room, her supplies gathered up in her arms, and froze, one foot still behind the doorstep.

Allura had looked up when she entered, her edges gleaming golden from the street lights the shone behind her. She looked ethereal, there was no other way to describe it, no other way that would do her justice. She sat there, her shoulders weighed down by sadness, lips stained red from wine and looked like melancholia had dressed itself up to make heads turn.

Romelle caught herself.

She realised that she was staring like an idiot and cleared her throat. “I’ve brought you a blanket... and tea!” She added hastily. Allura shot her a small smile, a sad thing that was too small to soothe Romelle’s worry.

“Thank you.” She wrapped the blanket her shoulders and patiently held onto the cup as Romelle poured the hot water. She chose one of the tea bags and watched it closely as the colour spread in the water.

There was a moment of silence, building and growing but Allura’s sadness gnawed at her. This wasn’t a status quo Romelle could stand. This had to be fixed.

 

“What happened to you?” She sat down on the floor in front of the couch and looked up at Allura.

“I- I…” For a moment it looked like she was about to abandon that sentence, close her mouth and let her teeth be the cell bars for the words she couldn’t bring herself to say but then she took a deep breath and recomposed herself. “There was this guy, Lotor, and we were seeing each other.”

Romelle bit down on her lip as the remaining bits of hope shrivelled up inside her chest. _Of course, there had been someone._ She felt foolish for not suspecting it. “What did he do?”

“Well, at first everything was perfect. Our parents already knew each other because they had once run a law firm together. He was absolutely charming and kind and I wanted nothing more than to fall in love.” Allura brushed stray curls out of her face. The rain had caused them to cling to her face and in some way, Romelle could understand them. She, too, wanted nothing more than to trace Allura’s cheekbones, over and over.

“But then?” Romelle lowered her voice and frowned.

“Well,” Allura sighed, thee sound drenched in sadness, “I couldn’t. I tried and I tried, but I couldn’t love him. I felt so terrible, I thought I was somehow wrong, twisted for not giving him the love he deserved. After he had tried so hard to make me happy.” Her words were coloured in the deepest shade of blue, sadness in its purest form but her body carried a different colour.

The traffic light right in front of the café turned red and drowned Allura in its colour. Romelle’s gaze fell down on Allura’s balled fists. They shone as if she had dipped them in paint, her dark skin illuminated in the shade of pure rage.

“Turned out all of it had been a lie anyway,” her voice turned sour, like milk left out in the sun, “It was his party I was invited to. It was a good one, too. Great music, people dancing, drinking and having fun.”

Allura hadn’t been one of them that night. Romelle resisted the urge to reach out and lay her hand over Allura’s balled fists, to soothe the tension and take away the pain.

“Lotor is notoriously bad at holding his liquor _and_ he is known for telling the truth. Nothing but the truth,” Allura huffed out a harsh laugh, her smile now sharp and devoid of any joy, “He leaned in to kiss me and when I wasn’t as enthusiastic as he was, he began to spill. Told me that none of this had been real anyway, that he only wanted to get into my good graces to follow into our parents' footsteps and open a law firm together…” Allura broke off, as tears rose in her eyes. She forced them back down instead of letting them spill.

Romelle couldn’t stand the sight. She reached out and laid her hand over Allura’s clenched fist. “You don’t have to tell me, Allura. It’s okay.” She meant it. Romelle’s worry wasn’t worth her tears.

“I have to...” Another deep breath, a sob that almost happened, “to get this out.”

Romelle tightened her grip. “Alright then. Go on.”

“I felt so… used. Like I was a tool, not worthy of being loved for my own sake,”

Allura buried her teeth in her bottom lip, eyes full of tears but cheeks still dry. Romelle’s chest burned

“There isn’t much that happened after that. He told me all of it had been a lie, I slapped him, stole a bottle of wine, left and now I’m here. Quite pathetic, isn’t it?”

Romelle shot her a serious look. “No, not at all. I would’ve slapped him twice. At least,” she added. Allura huffed out a laugh.

 

“I feel like this is how it’s always going to be. People are going to hear my last name and decide that I’m pretty enough to play pretend. Pretty enough that they can stomach any lies they might have to tell me.” Allua clenched her jaw as she pressed out the words.

“That’s not true. Lotor is an ass and doesn’t deserve you. You aren’t just a pretty face and a last name. You are an entire person and a pretty amazing one at that.” It took Romelle all her self control not to let her anger spill into her voice.

Allura’s eyes turned pensive and she studied Romelle like a scientist faced with a problem they couldn’t solve. “Why are you doing this?” She lifted the cup which was now empty and shot Romelle a confused look.

“What do you mean?” Romelle frowned.

“This.” She gestured at the blanket and the tea.

“What else should I have done? Turn you away and send back out there?” Romelle pointed at the pouring rain outside the window, “Not a chance.”

“Many people would have,” Allura insisted.

“I doubt that.”

Allura raised a brow and Romelle rolled her eyes. “Fine, maybe they would have. But _I_ wouldn’t have been able to live with abandoning you. That answer made you happy?” Romelle dialled up the annoyance and hoped that the lack of light in the room was enough to mask the heat rising on her cheeks.

“I didn’t want to anger you.” Allura sighed, exhaustion now prominent in her voice.

“You didn’t. Believe it or not, I care about you. Maybe I’m just the girl that makes you weird coffee in the morning but I care about you.”

Allura said something under her breath but Romelle didn’t catch it. “What?”

“You’re more than that. Much more.” Allura met her eyes and Romelle drowned in blue. Her daydreams hadn’t done Allura justice. Not one bit

Romelle smiled. “I’m glad, then.” Her smile widened when it received an echo in return.

 

They talked about other things then, brighter things. Romelle told about her love of books and how the people at her local library already knew her by name. (Her greatest achievement to date) Allura told her about all the various ways she had managed to fall asleep while standing up. (Romelle’s favourite story was the one where Allura had taken a twenty minute nap in a courtroom, with her back leaned against the door. Her TA Shiro had to smack her three times before she had woken up). They traded stories and anecdotes back and forth until exhaustion slurred their speech enough for sleep to claim them.

 

The next time Romelle woke up, the shop was once more drenched in red but this time from the rising sun. Her neck was bent at an odd angle so that her head could rest on the couch. Her butt, as well as her right leg, had fallen asleep and about a third of her bones popped when she peeled herself off the floor. She stretched and winced at the ache that lingered inside her body. Her eyes feel down on Allura’s curled up body, every muscle softened by sleep and she couldn’t help but think her own aching body had been worth it.

 

(She then went on to fix Allura and herself a coffee. Caramel sounded nice.)

 

(Romelle almost dropped the bottle of caramel syrup when Allura, all sleep-soft and drowsy, sat down in front of the counter, shot her a soft smile and whispered a low _good morning.)_

 

( _“What’s in that drink?” “Well, obviously I can’t tell you.”_ A smile. An exchange old and familiar.)

 

(Romelle held her breath as Allura took the first sip─ _what do you think?_ ─and only exhaled when she got a smile brighter than the sun as a response.)

 

**V. a lovely surprise**

 

Another morning. Another shift that dragged on and on. Romelle stood at the cash register, the café finally calm after the first swarm of commuters had left. The next swarm of commuters, composed of college students and tired businessmen that each carried the same dreary fatigue as everyone did who was forced to be awake at this ungodly hour, would come and go.

Romelle’s thoughts wandered back to last Friday, the entire café silent and plunged into darkness, Allura sad and tired, sitting there on the couch. Allura in the morning, somehow halfway stitched back together again smiling over a cup of coffee. She didn’t even try to stop herself anymore. She hadn’t been doing anything else ever since and steering her thoughts had never gone over particularly well.

So she indulged herself. Allowed herself musings and daydreams and wishful thinking. All of it. Again and again. At night, in class, at home or at work. Her mind was always half there and half somewhere else.

 

“You look worse than I do without caffeine in the morning.” Allura shot her an amused smile and something inside Romelle’s chest bloomed.

“Looking worse than you actually isn’t a high bar to clear.”

Allura’s smile didn’t falter. “Yet, you still fail to do it.”

Heat spread on Romelle’s cheeks and she busied herself with taking Allura’s order before she could notice. “The usual?”

“As always. Surprise me.” Allura’s smile widened and Romelle clung to her composure. This wasn’t fair. No one could expect her to just go about her day and live life as always when Allura was a part of it. How could one expect her to be satisfied with fog and rain, now that she knew what the sun felt like?

Romelle prepared her drink. This time however she had to focus. This one had to be perfect. She had prepared and practised. Just so this one drink could be perfect.

She handed Allura her cup and stared at her as she took the first sip.

 _“Oh no, you didn’t!”_ Allura yelled as she stared at her in wonder. She looked down at the cup, then back up at Romelle. “You did not.”

By then Romelle couldn’t hold back her smile anymore. It took over her face, wide enough to make her eyes small and her cheeks ache. “Did I get it right?”

“Did you– It’s fucking _perfect_! I thought you didn’t sell matcha.”

“Well, we don’t,” Romelle replied, then she looked down at her feet, her cheeks now completely red and burning, “I learned how to do it, stocked up on almond milk and then ordered the matcha online.”

She looked up to find Allura gaping at her, eyes caught between shock and had to be pure wonder. “You’re _amazing_ ,” Allura breathed out, the words so goddamn _sincere._ Romelle’s heart stopped. She wanted to open her mouth and say that it wasn’t a big deal, that she would have done it for other customers too. Except she wouldn’t have. She had done it for Allura. And only for her.

 

Allura caught herself but still seemed restless. Her eyes bright and voice almost thrumming with energy “Could you take a break or anything? Or could we have like five minutes? I need to tell you something.” Normally those words would have worried Romelle. But not like this. Allura’s smile was as wide as the equator and as bright as the sun. It got rid of any worry there might have been.

“Yes, she actually can,” Lance who appeared out of literally nowhere cut in. He made eye contact with Romelle and his grin sharpened “Romelle go take five or I’ll _make_ you.”

“But–”

“Keith will take over your spot in the meantime, now _go.”_ Romelle’s head shot around when Allura huffed out a chuckle, dazzling smile hid behind a balled fist. That something inside her chest got close to bursting.

“Yeah,” she breathed out, eyes still caught on Allura’s face, “I’ll be right back.” She walked around the counter and dragged Allura into the employee space in the back. She pointedly ignored Keith’s grin when he walked passed them and pretended to not notice Lance’s snicker that followed them. Idiots.

 

“So what did you want to tell me?” Romelle turned around to face Allura, heart fluttering all the way up to her throat, breath caught inside her lungs.

“Well, I–” Allura broke off and seemed to be wrestling with words, “You are _amazing_. You take out time of your day to chat with me, even during rush hour and finals season when this place is jam-packed and you pretty much look dead on your feet. And just when I thought you couldn’t possibly get better, you then just up and take care of me when I drunkenly stumble in here way after closing time-!”

She interrupted her rambling to take a long deep breath but started back up again before Romelle could even think about getting a word in.

“And if that all isn’t enough, you’re like _ridiculously_ pretty. Like unfairly stunning. You’re pretty, you went out of your way to make me matcha and your smile is like the sun and I’m probably reading this wrong and–”

This was when Romelle interrupted her. She shot forward and gripped both of her upper arms. “You are _not_ reading this wrong. Not at all.” Her heartbeat was in her ears, her heart in her throat.

 _“You_ are incredible. No, believe me!” She added when Allura looked ready to disagree, “Ever since you walked into our shop a few months back, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I daydream, a lot and ever since I met you they all revolve about the same thi–” Romelle abruptly cut off her sentence.

She hadn’t meant to say that. Not at all. She tried to take a step backwards to… To do what? Hide her burning cheeks? Come up with a way to downplay what she’d just said? I didn’t matter. It just had to be _something_.

But Allura wasn’t having it. “No, don’t stop,” she almost pleaded, her eye soft and open. She looked at Romelle like she had just told her she knew the inner workings of the universe, like she carried the most precious gift. “What do you daydream about?”

The whispered words lingered between them, caught up in the tension and confined to the space between them. Romelle looked up and met Allura’s eyes. She took a deep breath and gathered all the courage she could muster.

 

“You, mostly. The two of us together.”

 

It was like watching a sunrise or the bloom of a flower. Allura’s face bust open into the widest smile and Romelle found herself echoing it almost instinctively.

“Tell me everything.”

Romelle’s cheeks heated at the giddiness in Allura’s voice. “It’s us in any way, shape or form you could imagine. Those mundane moments of everyday life, like waiting in line, studying together in the library, wrapped around each other…” she trailed off.

“That sounds wonderful. When can we start?” Allura gripped both of Romelle’s hands and leaned in as if they were conspiring together, like they were sharing a joke only the two of them were allowed in of.

Romelle blinked. “What?”

“When can we start living those moments? You seem to have quite the list to get through.” Allura shot her a crooked smile and Romelle finally caught on.

She played along. “But the things the list progressively gets longer.”

“We’ll have to hurry, of course.”

“This Saturday, then. A date. You and me. On a date.” Romelle exhaled, her cheeks stained red, her heart hammering against her ribcage.

Allura tightened her grip on her hands. “Sounds like a plan.”

For a moment there was nothing but them smiling and the words lingering between them. Then Allura leaned in and pressed a kiss against the corner of Romelle’s mouth. Her movements were deliberate and slow and Romelle’s skin tingled in anticipation.

“To get you through your shift,” Allura murmured, breath a soft caress against Romelle’s skin.

 

Turned out it wasn’t enough to get her through her shift. Instead, it made it worse. Lance and Keith had a field day watching her trying to navigate the rest of her shift high on infatuation and happiness. But Romelle couldn’t bring herself to care as she stood staring out the window, hand resting on the faded sensation of Allura’s lips on her skin.

Her mind filled to the brim with daydreams that she would now get to experience for real.

  


**Author's Note:**

> ,,,,they ;-;
> 
> you made it!! i hope you liked it!! go send some love to [Kristine!](https://twitter.com/kanonicity) (she's amazing trust me!!) and if you would like to see more of things like this, check out my writing!! Or if you're just interested in yelling and similar Quality Content, come say hello on my [twitter!!](https://twitter.com/cxnfiscated)  
> see y'all soon(-ish)


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